First Person Shooter
by Rae666
Summary: One shot. 25 year old Dean finds an old arcade game and thinks about the youth he lost.


**First Person Shooter  
**

Summary: One shot. 25 year old Dean finds an old arcade game and thinks about the youth he lost.

Disclaimer: I wish I owned 'em, but I don't.

A/N: Random flash of inspiration and I had to write it in order to take a break from evil university assignments. Another experiment with first person writing.

-.-.-

I always liked those old arcade games, you know, the bust up ones that are hidden by some dusty old cover in the corner of some old motel office. I remember the really, really olds – like Space Invaders or Asteroids. Now they were _ancient_. They had those buttons and the little joysticks and they were fun as hell to play for hours on end, especially when I was trying to tire little Sammy out so he would quit asking so many questions. The motel clerks were usually pretty nice about it, something about a couple of cute kids pleading, that usually did the trick… and if it didn't, well, Sammy had the waterworks fine-tuned from an early age.

But it always made my heart flutter whenever I found one of those machines with the guns and the little pedals. The good ones didn't come out 'til later, much later, and me and Sammy usually had to go further a field than the stinking motel office in order to find one. Sometimes we managed, sometimes we didn't. But it was always worth it when we did. You see, me and Sammy were a team. Give us a roll of quarters and bags of time and we would work our way up the high score tables until our initials sat up there at number one.

DSW

I'm the oldest, so naturally my initial always went first. Though I did catch him trying to sneak SAM in once when I had my eye on something a little more blonde and curvaceous. When I saw what he was doing, well… let's just say he never tried it again. But man, those times were always fun. And of course, the zombie ones were awesome. Who doesn't love randomly shooting zombies with a shotgun full of rounds and a brother who's as perfect an aim as you are?

Though the little plastic guns are so far from being real that it ain't even funny. Sure, the shape of them feels pretty damn good in your hand but they hold no weight. They're just so damn light that you wouldn't even hurt a damn zombie if you threw the plastic chunk at them with all your freaking strength. You might scratch them, what with the sharp edges, or if you're really lucky, you might end up poking their eye out if you throw it right… but nah, as much as I love the games, it's just not the same as the real thing.

The real thing. Yeah, like hunting down skin-walkers with my old man or taking down poltergeists with my kid brother. Nothing quite compares to the adrenaline that pumps through your veins and the way your heart thumps so loudly in your chest that you're sure the person right next to you should be able to hear it, only you know they can't… or else you'd be able to hear theirs too, 'cause surely they must be feeling the exact same way as you. Surely they must be just as scared out of their minds as you are; only they're hiding it, just like you.

'Course you don't wrack up points for how many you kill, and every one you face is just as big and just as bad as the last. Then there's the health, no secret health packs to make you feel magically better… if you get hit, you're in it for the long haul so basic rule is, don't get hit, don't get hurt.

You know what, on second thoughts, I think I prefer the arcade games after all. I think I prefer knowing that when I run out of quarters, then I can just walk away and leave the monsters in the game.

It's strange you know, twenty five years old and my entire life has been one long shoot 'em up game with a damn crosshair in the middle of my vision and to top it off, I lost my partner in crime to a damn college and my old man is too busy getting himself loaded up on whiskey and booze to notice that his eldest is standing at the other side of the bar next to the old arcade game, pink plastic gun in hand, as he wishes for the youth that he never got to fully taste.

No Djinns about tonight though, no magic lamps or fairy godmothers with pumpkins and mice and magical sing songs to make my wish come true. What's done is done, what's lost is lost… sometimes all that's left to do is to put a quarter in the slot and hit 'start'. Sometimes all you can do is play a round of shoot 'em up for old time's sakes and see if you've still got it in you to put your name on the high score's list.

Yeah, I used to love these old arcade games.

-.-.-

Thank you for reading!!


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